


The Avatars (plural) of the Beholding

by cy_owns_this_whorehouse



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil Palmer Has Tentacles, Cecil Palmer Has a Third Eye, Cecil Palmer is Described, Crossover, Grumpy Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, He/Him and They/Them Pronouns for Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, M/M, Mentioned Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale), NOT SPOILER FREE I DON'T THINK, Nonbinary Cecil Palmer, Not Canon Compliant, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Out of Character, Spoilers for The Magnus Archives Season 5, The Beholding Fear Domain (The Magnus Archives), kind of a crack fic, like charles and kevin, sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:01:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28590684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cy_owns_this_whorehouse/pseuds/cy_owns_this_whorehouse
Summary: As Jon and Martin make their way back to London, they encounter a strange man who claims that he's Jon. Or like Jon, at least, they can't really get a straight answer out of him.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer, Cecil Palmer & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 7
Kudos: 78





	The Avatars (plural) of the Beholding

**Author's Note:**

> kind of crack, I've been wanting to write this for a while now

_ The Magnus Archives  _

_ Episode  _ _ r̵̺̦̱͖̝̣̙̯͙͖̭̫̾̇̋̊̅͐͗́͜e̴͔̣̪͓͓̰͔̝̒͛͜d̷̡̤̹̟̮̦͔͕͎̤̿̉͂̈́̍̈́̔͛̽̔̎̐̊͐̃͛͐͋͠a̷̢̰͔̜̘̺̙̱͈̗͉̬̭͊͌͐̄̐̃̿͑̂͒̓͘̕̕͜͜͠c̴̟̩̃͛̽̈́̆̾̂͊̍̋̄̕t̸̗͛ę̶̛̥̫͓͕̣͈̣͍͕͖̮̥͋̑d̸̡̡̧̝̙͇̬̞̺̫̟͍̟͆̈́̉̀̒̓͂͗̏͋͐̄̈́͘͝͠͠ͅͅ _

_ CLUNK _

_ CLUNK _

_ CLUNK _

_ *click* _

...  
  
..

.  
  
  


___________

Gravel crunched under their feet as they walked. It seemed like this whole place was made of gravel, glass, and a sea of endless fog, and Jon couldn’t even tell where they were going. Something was obscuring his vision, and it wasn’t the fog. His hand was cold despite Martin’s clutching it, and it unsettled him. 

“So, who’s domain is this?” Martin asked, his soft voice shattering the silence around him. Jon flinched; he could almost feel it rain down around them like the pieces of shattered glass scattered at their feet. It was so quiet, nothing moved here but them, as if the whole place was holding its breath. 

“I don’t know,” Jon said honestly, shaking their head. Martin made a noise at the back of his throat that might just be a scoff. 

“You don’t  _ know. _ ” 

Jon scowled. “It’s not my fault, Martin. I think something’s blocking me. Or the Eye, at least.”

“Think it’s the fog?”

Jon sighed. “I don’t know.”

Martin was silent for a while after that. They continued to walk, but nothing visibly changed. It was just… a wasteland, devoid of everything but the two of them. Jon felt restless, unsettled, something pricking at his spine like he was being watched, even though he knew they were alone. 

Wait a moment. They  _ didn’t  _ know. He couldn’t see, at least, nothing beyond the cracked right lens of his glasses and their own hazy eyesight if he took them off. He reached out, blindly, trying to feel for something,  _ anything,  _ but the Eye refused to reach back. He could feel panic starting to build in his throat. He hadn’t been cut off from the Eye before, why--

He tried again, stopping in his tracks, waiting for the familiar green glow around their eyes to light up, to  _ see,  _ but it was just as empty around him as it had been when the fog had started to roll in. Martin said nothing but Jon could practically feel the waves of worry rolling off him; or, he would be able to, if he wasn’t so wrapped up in his own panic and nearly hyperventilating. Martin squeezed their hand, and the silence shattered once more. 

“Oh, Jon. You can’t See in here.”

The voice was deep, rich and heavy like distant highway traffic. The two men turned their heads, and a man was standing where they’d just been. Purple smoke curled out of the corners of his mouth, mixing with the fog. Jon blinked, and Martin made a little noise that may just be fear. 

The man wasn’t tall, or short, or thin, or fat, just somewhere in between that somehow suited him perfectly. His skin was colored like rosewood, dark and warm. His hair was a mass of long, thin braids, coiled with gold and held back from his face in a ponytail. However, Jon could only stare at the way his blank eyes glowed slightly purple, or the third eye blinking open sleepily in the center of his forehead, or the pale lilac horns wreathed with smoke curling out of his temples or the  _ fucking tentacles curling neatly around his hips-- _

Really, there were so many things to focus on on this- this-- well, he-- I mean, r\ _ it _ couldn’t really be called a man. More like an ancient eldritch abomination. The being pouted. 

“Really, Jon, that was incredibly rude,” it chided. “And my pronouns are he/they, just like you, thank you for asking.”

His accent was decidedly American, which was an odd thing to find in the middle of Scotland. It was so…  _ mundane  _ that Jon couldn’t even wrap his head around the fact that they had just appeared to read his mind. 

“Who--” Jon’s voice trembled slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again, his hand trembling just a little in Martin’s grip. Martin was standing just slightly behind him, and Jon didn’t blame him, Jon was the one with freaky avatar powers that could vaporize people. “Who are you?”

“Mm,” the man hummed, placing their arms behind his head. He was dressed in a neat, dark purple suit, with black boots and a lilac shirt underneath. His sleeves were rolled up to show off gold tattoos curling over their dark skin, like tentacles and eyes and many legged creatures with names too hard to pronounce. “My name is Cecil Gershwin-Palmer. I am-- well, how should I put this-- I am  _ you. _ ”

Now that was the stupidest thing Jon had ever heard. They looked nothing alike, not even their skin color matched. “What do you mean.”

Cecil smiled. It would be a friendly smile, but it was rather undercut by the sharp teeth that filled his mouth. “Oh, I am not you from the future, or you from the past, I am you from another universe!”

Jon wanted to sit down, but he couldn’t unless he wanted a rump full of glass. “Excuse me?”

Cecil looked confused. “Well-- alright, you are excused, but I cannot imagine what on earth for.” 

Martin nearly laughed, though it was nervous and shaky. “No, he means-- well, he means explain.”

“Oh!” Cecil said brightly, and immediately sat down on the ground. Evidently it didn’t hurt them. He even went so far as to pat the gravel. Both men looked at him dubiously, but eventually Martin took off his jacket and spread it on the ground, sitting on it, and Jon settled themselves in his boyfriend’s lap. Cecil propped his elbow on his knee and subsequently his chin in his hand, and smiled at the two. More purple smoke dripped out of his mouth, and this close, the smoke smelled like teakwood and lavender, like he was an incense burner. 

“Oh, you two are just  _ adorable. _ Oh my god, I would love to have you on my show sometime. I should contact station management, I am sure I could set something up--”

He rummaged through his pockets, presumably to find a phone, but gave up halfway through with a shrug. “Oh well, I will just… send them half a lemon muffin when I get home. I am sure they will understand. Now, where were we?”

“Who are you,” Jon said, trying one more time to use the Eye. Partly out of habit, and partly because Cecil didn’t seem to be able to focus on one thing at once. Cecil just laughed. 

“Jon, I already said you cannot use the Eye. Not while I am here.”

“Right, because you’re--”

“You. Yes, exactly. You, from a universe where the Magnus Institute does not exist, where the avatars are spread out amongst the world and keep to themselves, and I am the avatar of the Eye. So I guess I am not really you, I am just… your happier, less apocalypsy equivalent.”

Jon felt as though he might pass out. He thought he had moved on trying to feel sorry for himself, feeling that life was unfair but this-- this was  _ incredibly  _ unfair. Cecil may be monstrous, but he looked… happy. Jon didn’t say anything. They didn’t think they could. 

Cecil’s blank eyes portrayed no emotion, but Jon didn’t need the Eye to know that Cecil was currently pitying them both. He hated pity, so he decided to change the subject. 

“Why can you use the Eye here, but I can’t?”

Cecil shrugged. “I have been the Eye for many more years than you, Jon. You have only been the avatar for… what is it, four years? I have been the avatar for nearly eighty. Experience takes precedence, I suppose.” 

“Eighty?” Martin blurted out, his arms tightening slightly around Jon’s waist. Cecil grinned. 

“Yes, Martin Blackwood, eighty. Though I suspect I am much older than that I can’t really remember, all I know is that I am an Aquarius, my dearest husband Carlos is a Taurus, and I’ve been nearing forty for a very long time now. It’s very exciting! I have something very special planned for my fortieth birthday. That is, if Carlos can ever figure out when it is, he’s a scientist you know he’s very good with dates and charts and things-- oh, he’ll find out one of these days. I know it.” 

“That’s very nice, Cecil, but why are you here?” Jon said, cutting across Cecil’s rant before it could get too long winded. If he heard much more about Cecil’s life, about his wonderful husband or his birthday or  _ whatever,  _ Jon might just cry and they haven't cried since they lost Martin in the domain of the Lonely. 

“Oh! I just wanted to check up on you, see how you’re doing,” Cecil said airily, waving his hand as if it were no big deal. Smoke wafts away and mixes with the fog. “I’ve been thinking a lot about Kevin, you know, he’s another avatar of the Eye though I suspect he also has something to do with the Stranger,” here, Cecil shuddered and made a face, “and since he has ended up rather...unfortunate, I figured I would check up on you as well.”

Jon felt slow. He didn’t know who Kevin was, but he also didn’t know why Cecil would choose him in particular. If a multiverse did exist, which was fucking weird to think about and Jon thinks that that section of their brain had shut off a while ago, why would Cecil choose the most fucked up one to check on?

“That is exactly why I am checking in on you, Jon,” Cecil said in a gentle sort of voice. “The others can take care of themselves. You-- well, you are certainly fierce, just like my wonderful Carlos, but you are fading. Not just your world, though it is rather going to- ah, well, to shit, as it may, but  _ you  _ specifically.”

“What does that mean?” Martin whispered. Cecil turned their blank gaze to him, one of his tentacles giving a rather distressed twitch against his thigh. 

“How many eyes do you see, Martin?” they asked. 

“Er, what?”

“When Jon uses the Eye. How many?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Cecil tilted his head and looked very hard at the both of them. A soft ringing filled the air, Cecil’s blank eyes filled with purple light, and a wreath of blinking, staring,  _ watching _ purple eyes curved over his forehead like a crown, glowing bright through the sudden thick haze of purple smoke that obscured his face. Jon suddenly felt stripped bare, like Cecil had just opened them up like a book and flipped through the pages. And, judging by Martin’s squirm, he felt the exact same.

The light faded, the eyes blinked shut and vanished, and the smoke died down to light trickles once more as Cecil smiled pleasantly. “His are green. How many?”

Martin didn’t look at Jon, even though Jon was looking up at him. “Er, seven, I think.”

“ _ Seven, _ ” Cecil murmured. “There should only be five.”

Oh. Jon feels sick. He’d known that something was wrong, he’d felt more and more off with every step they’d taken towards the Institute, like something was crumbling inside of him. They were… succumbing, just like Daisy. Fuck, Daisy. He didn’t want to end up like her. 

“That is entirely up to you, Jon,” Cecil said as he read their mind, lacing his fingers together under their chin. “You don’t have to. I would advise you to walk faster, though, and try not to kill anymore avatars. They drain you, you know, make you very much less you.”

Jon couldn’t help but look down at Cecil’s tentacles. “Is that-- is that what happened to you?” 

Cecil laughed. “No. Not at all, I looked like this long before I became the avatar. You might just turn out to look like Kevin. Do not turn out to look like Kevin. However, I was talking about mentally.” 

Their eyes strayed back up to Martin. Jon thought of Basira. “However… Martin, I get the sense that he’s somewhat of your Charles. Not quite your Carlos, because I have never been tempted to kill anyone, but I believe he is your Charles. You will keep each other… at least somewhat sane, because there is little sanity to be found here in the first place, but sane nonetheless. And really, that is what I have come here to say,” he finished, standing up and brushing glass and gravel off of his tight suit pants. His hands started to bleed, purple liquid trailing down his fingertips. They didn’t seem to notice.

“Wait,” Jon said, getting to his feet. “Can’t you stay? I mean, you’re probably much more powerful, you could probably fix this in ten minutes, can’t you…” he didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. They were so tired. This burden had been on their shoulders for far longer than he could handle. 

Cecil looked sad as he put their hands on Jon’s shoulders and carefully pushed him away. “No.” 

He didn’t offer an explanation, or more words, which Jon was both relieved for and disappointed by. Jon’s head hurt. He now wished for them to leave.

Cecil dropped their hands off of Jon’s shoulders, and waved at them both. His tentacles, all four of them, waved too. “Goodbye, keep each other sane, and for god’s sake Martin, stop making Jon kill avatars,” they said in good nature, grinning at Martin. Martin didn’t grin back. “If you make it out of this alive, contact station management, they have a summer home in the tunnels under the institute. We could talk again. Good night, Martin and Jon, good night.”

Fog curled around Cecil’s body, once more mixing with the purple smoke that poured from the corners of his mouth, and then it all faded like a bad trip, leaving just the smell of lavender and two boot prints in the gravel to prove that it had been real. 

Jon sighed and closed his eyes. He could see green light pressing in suddenly through his closed eyelids, a faint ringing in the air, and Martin’s little gasp he always did whenever Jon used the Eye. When it faded, Jon opened his eyes, feeling tired but less empty now that the Eye was back in his control. 

“Well, he was right about station management. Its summer home is quite lovely when it lives there,” Jon said dully, then they turned around and immediately began to walk as the fog began to fade. Martin jogged after him. 

“Jon! Wait!” 

Jon didn’t stop walking, but he slowed. Martin huffed. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Erm, I really feel like we should, that was really weird, I mean--”

“ _ Martin. _ I said  _ drop it. _ ”

Martin dropped it. 

Gravel crunched under their feet as they walked, but the silence wasn’t so pressing anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> I mean I hope it made sense?? comments/kudos are greatly appreciated haha maybe I'll add a part 2 after season 5 ends


End file.
